


Singing Like a Bird 'Bout It Now

by AetherAria



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: (i'm a monsterfucker actually so like. splitting hairs), Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fill, Second Citadel (Penumbra Podcast), Smut, categorized as 'other' bc arum is nonbinary when i write him bye, i'm not a scalie but i'm also not a coward, in the immortal words of our people:, lmao i don't know how to tag for anything ever i am so sorry, playing it fast & loose with lizard anatomy, talking just SO much talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 02:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherAria/pseuds/AetherAria
Summary: Lord Arum quite enjoys when his poet prattles, actually.





	Singing Like a Bird 'Bout It Now

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by tumblr user shorter-than-her-tbr-pile for the prompt: [The way you said “I love you.“ - Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble]. I'M SO SORRY IF SMUT IS NOT WHAT YOU WANTED OR EXPECTED, IT WAS THE *ONLY* THING MY BRAIN WOULD DO WITH THAT PROMPT. Anyway I'm having a mild panic because I've BARELY EVER posted smut before so like. Be gentle with me lmao.
> 
> Title taken from the song Shrike by Hozier.

Damien already considered himself lucky in love when his relationship encompassed only himself and Rilla. Now, he struggles not to be astounded by his abundance of fortune.

The newness of knowing Arum ( _knowing_ him- there is something about that euphemism that Damien adores, entwining the idea of the carnal with the cerebral, touch and taste and understanding all in one) means that every time he and Damien lie together (another lovely term, both literal and demure) it still feels raw and strange and undiscovered, particularly when it is only the two of them. When they are all three together it is gorgeous and joyous, of course, and Rilla is so endlessly confident that Damien never needs to worry, but their lives are busy and the three of them have, over time, come together in every possible permutation.

When Damien and Arum are alone together, Damien still feels that edge, that potency and fire in the air that grew during their duels, and it is difficult not to be overwhelmed. Arum wears intensity as easily as his cape, and Damien finds it altogether too easy to be swept up in that intensity, swept into incredible highs of passion, swept up in Arum’s arms.

As he is now.

Damien hangs in Arum's grasp, lit up from the inside out with Arum standing steady behind him, his teeth buried carefully in Damien’s shoulder as he holds him in the air. Two hands grip underneath his knees, lifting and spreading his legs, while two more at his waist maneuver him down onto one of Arum’s cocks in a stable, driving rhythm.

Damien bites his lip hard to muffle the noises he can’t stop himself from making, to keep the welling of words in his heart from pouring out of his mouth like a river as Arum holds him steady, as Arum splits him open from behind.

Arum releases him from the bite, flicking his tongue over the soft marks his teeth left and stroking his thumbs gently on Damien’s sides in a direct counterpoint to the determined way he is pulling Damien down onto himself. “Do not- do not try to keep your noises from me, honeysuckle,” Arum pants into his neck between thrusts, his breath warm and heady. “I want every one of them. I am _greedy_ for them, honeysuckle, greedy for _you_ , greedy for everything you give to me-”

Damien gasps, his skin hot everywhere Arum is touching him and tingling like magic where he can feel the vibration of Arum’s voice, and the well of feeling within him sloshes and overflows. “ _Arum_ ,” he gasps again, and reaches a hand down to grip one of the claws curling under his thigh. His other hand lifts up and back until he can clumsily cup Arum’s cheek in his palm, his nails scraping over scales. “If- if- if you are greedy, Arum, then I match your greed in turn- you- you make me yearn so deeply and then you fill me to that same depth, my lily, my love- I crave your hands upon me every moment, your tongue, your teeth, you bring me to such wild heights of desire and carry me through them so easily, so perfectly-”

“Ahh, see… see how _sweet_ you are, honeysuckle. How sweetly you take me,” Arum breathes, his rhythm never faltering. “How generous you are with such a ravenous creature as I, so kind with your words… so gentle, honeysuckle.” He nuzzles against the crook of Damien’s neck, flicks his tongue out to draw up the side of his throat as he lifts and lowers Damien onto himself. “So gentle you compel me to gentleness myself.”

Damien is cast loose in the sensation as Arum drives up into him, left wordless and gasping and helpless and free, halfway to flight, and then Arum nips at his ear, drawing out from him a wordless whine.

“I cannot have chased away all the words from your tongue already, honeysuckle,” he says, the teasing note in his voice utterly overwhelmed by the desperate desire beneath it, and Damien is nearly lightheaded with the knowledge that Arum wants his voice, wants his _words_ , is hungry enough for them that he will make himself vulnerable enough to _ask_.

“Each thrust,” he manages, just barely, “each touch, if I truly spoke my heart- ah, _ah_ , if I spoke as you make me f-feel at each moment, my lily, I would- _ah_ , I would be reduced to a creature of three words alone, I would only e-ever be able to say, unceasingly, how dearly I love you-”

Arum’s careful rhythm finally breaks, his hips stuttering out of time with a keening, growling noise. “ _Honeysuckle_ ,” he whispers into the pause, and then he lifts Damien almost entirely off of himself, hands flying in every direction as he turns Damien midair until they are face to face.

With all of Arum’s hands upon him Damien could hang suspended if he desired, but he still wraps his hands around Arum’s shoulders, craving touch, craving the cool gentle texture of scales beneath his fingertips, the ridge of dull horns on the back of Arum’s neck pressing into his palm. Damien’s heels press desperately against the small of Arum’s back as he sinks him back down, piercing him through, Arum’s second cock dragging against his own with exquisite friction.

“Damien,” Arum says breathlessly, his violet eyes burning and his tail coiling behind him, and when he starts to move Damien again the new pace he sets is steady, but it is also _torturously_ slow. “Tell me again.”

Damien breathes a laugh, but the languorous slide of Arum inside of him turns the noise into a groan halfway through. “Greedy- greedy for this as well, Lord Arum?” he asks,

Arum grits his teeth, panting. His maintains his pace, each thrust deliberate and controlled and delicious, but it only takes a moment of quiet before he growls helplessly. “P-please, honeysuckle,” he says, nipping the edge of his jaw. “Speak your heart. Say it- say it _again_.”

It bubbles up inside Damien like water fit to boil. Arum, so regal and wild and proud, _Lord_ Arum, trusting Damien enough to ask for assurance of his affection. Damien could _sing_ his love for him, if Arum was not so thoroughly taking his breath away with each movement.

“You know how I love you,” he says, soft as summer shade, and Arum’s breath hitches, his grip on Damien’s sides and legs flexing and tightening. “I love you utterly, I am consumed by the feeling, transmuted and transformed by it. I love every wild inch of you, every scale and claw, and I love every- every monstrous passion I can draw from you. I love you- I love you more than words can say, my lily. I am a poet and still I struggle to constrain the enormity of my feeling into such limited vessels. I love you, and thank all Saints and all mercy that you love me in return.”

“Honeysuckle,” Arum says again, staring into Damien’s eyes as if hypnotized, fucking him as if he cannot stop. “Honeysuckle, I-”

“I love you, Arum. I love you like an inevitability. Like an impossibility. I love you like _magic_.” He is timing his words, now, with each slow, sinuous thrust Arum is giving him, and Arum is transfixed, his control finally starting to slip as he moves Damien gradually faster, faster, until Damien’s words grow staccato to match. “I love you rapturously, Arum, I love you endlessly, I love you so- I love you, Arum I love- my lily, my lily I love you, I love you I love you I love- I _love_ -”

Arum comes with a wild growl, closing his eyes and flinging his head back and clutching Damien tight against his chest, and the urgency of his last few thrusts, the firm and gentle touch of all of Arum’s hands upon him holding him in flight, the idea of Damien’s words tipping Arum into climax, all of it together sends Damien careening over his own edge. He shudders, helplessly pressing his mouth to Arum’s neck and moaning against his scales as Arum holds him still suspended, steady, safe.

For a few moments, their panting breaths and slowing heartbeats are the only noises in the world, and then Arum nuzzles close against Damien’s ear.

“I love you, Damien,” he murmurs. He scrapes his claws soothingly through Damien’s hair, his other hands gently lifting Damien away, unwrapping his legs from around his back and carefully lowering him to the nearby bed. “I cannot express it as you do, my poet, but-”

Damien kisses the corner of Arum’s mouth, slow and satisfied. “I believe you express yourself quite articulately,” he breathes. “With the look in your eyes, with the purring in your throat, with teeth and tongue and claws and c-”

Arum laughs, nuzzling close again and draping himself bonelessly over Damien, tangling their hands together and breathing slow, slow.

Soon, Arum will pull Damien back to his feet, they will talk and laugh and go clean themselves off, and perhaps when they kiss softly beneath the gentle waterfall Arum uses to wash, it will lead to pleasure and pleasure again, or perhaps it will simply lead to soft embrace and sighing. For now, though, there is only quiet, hand in hand and skin to scale, and echoes of a love repeated dancing on the air.


End file.
